


Doslanir

by scalphunter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Clones, Friendship, Gen, Loyalty means everything to clones, No Spoilers, One Shot, Tup's hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25263718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scalphunter/pseuds/scalphunter
Summary: Dogma thinks on their conversations about Tup’s hair before they were picked up by the 501st. He actually likes Tup’s hair, as nonsensical as it is, he admires the prettiness of it, the elegance it gives him. Tup is still on edge, still not breathing correctly, eyes are still glassy and he hasn’t told him to go away.
Relationships: Dogma & CT-5385 | Tup
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	Doslanir

He tries not to, and yet Dogma watches Tup squirm and fidget out of the corner of his eye. He himself is awake, reading on a pad, and in his peripheral vision he can see Tup’s moving form, all jittery. This is the third night of this. The third night of Dogma being the only one not sleeping, and then Tup… Tup’s nightmares. They all get them, it is an agreed consensus that they all get these dreams that drip with blood, shake with ash, and scream into the void of conscious. These dreams are why he sleeps as little as he can, on just the amount that will keep him effective in the field, but not enough to kick in his brain’s lucid dream cycle. It’s practiced. He thinks it's fine. It simply has to be. He hasn’t got a choice.

Tup. Tup is a different matter. He cannot compartmentalise like Dogma, can’t bury things away at the back of his head, stuff them until their quiet, no, Tup’s emotions live on the surface along with his expressiveness. Dogma puts the pad aside and slips off his bunk as silently as possible. He hovers near Tup’s bunk, suddenly unsure of what he wants to do, and taps Tup’s shoulder. Nothing happens, except Tup becomes more incensed by whatever is happening behind his eyes, if only to himself, his breathing becoming more erratic and even in the pale moonlight filtering through the barracks Dogma can see Tup’s skin is pasty, sheen of sweat at his brow. He tries again, a little more vigorously, and on a whimper Tup awakes, leaning into Dogma’s touch and then violently away again, turning wide, confused eyes on him. 

‘What are you doing?’ Tup asks, suspiciously, and he still looks afraid, curling into himself and trying to get away from Dogma who retracts his hands slowly. 

‘You looked distressed, I wanted to make sure you were okay’ Dogma answers, ‘This is not the first time either’.

‘So, you’re spying on me?’ Tup glowers acidly, the words tumbling over an uneasiness. Dogma sighs, looking at the floor instead, at his own socked feet.

‘No, I was looking out for you’ he says, ‘Perhaps I needn’t have bothered’ he whispers harshly and he thinks of simply getting back into his own bunk, of leaving Tup be, letting him dissolve into himself. 

‘Wait… You. Thank you’ the words are soft, kind, unbalanced and so very Tup, that he raises his gaze, to find Tup staring at him, eyes filled with unshed tears. 

‘It’s alright’ Dogma replies with difficulty, and he reaches out to feel a strand of his hair, soft like him, and noting the bun that is coming apart, hair becoming lax due to his movements. Tup sniffs and laughs wetly.

‘I know, it’s worse now. Definitely not regulation’ his tone is biting, a little bit self-depreciating, and Dogma thinks on their conversations about Tup’s hair before they were picked up by the 501st. He actually likes Tup’s hair, as nonsensical as it is, he admires the prettiness of it, the elegance it gives him. Tup is still on edge, still not breathing correctly, eyes are still glassy and he hasn’t told him to go away. He’s also now pulling at the band holding his hair roughly, in sharp yanks, vicious, so Dogma helps. Tup’s hands descend from his hair, allowing the help, if mainly because he has settled into a part of his own head quietly. 

So, Dogma does something he did for Tup during their time on Kamino when Tup had broken his arm. He combs his fingers through the waves of black locks, shaking out the knots, and Tup makes a small noise of assent. He takes the band from him, finds the pins he has stashed in a small box, and settles himself on the bunk comfortably. Tup hasn’t moved, his posture still rigid, still not quite right. Dogma repeats the action from before, separates a section of his hair from the top-left side, and begins to braid along until he can pin the finished plait at the back of his head. He does the same thing on the top right side, threading it through his fingers, and he can see the coiled anguish start to ease out of the man’s shoulder’s. He pins the next braid, securing it once more. He does wonder how Tup comes about the pins and bands, however he is guessing Fives has something to do with it. He then takes the main section of his hair and begins the knotted bun he has seen Tup do, it’s more complicated than the way he has it normally, includes more twists of hair, more plaits. He puts a pin in is mouth, holding it open between his teeth, frowns at the unevenness of the knot, so he lets go and gathers it up again. While he does this, he notices the white-knuckled grip Tup had on the bunk has become just a normal hold, his thumb rubbing along the mattress. 

‘I remember the first time you did this’ Tup says, quietly, and Dogma barely hears him. 

‘I broke my arm in that training exercise… you spent ten minutes telling that this is exactly why I should have had it short.’ Tup scoffs, ‘But you still helped.’ he breathes, and there is a wavering in his voice, something still off, and Dogma doesn’t know what to do or say. 

‘It makes you look - elegant. It suits you.’ he waves his free hand at Tup’s head. 

‘Careful Dogma, it almost sounds like you like it’ Tup replies, and if he is throwing mild insults, then he must be feeling a bit better. Dogma makes a derisive noise.

‘I wouldn’t go that far’ is what he says, and Tup’s head his bowed slightly, so Dogma doesn’t see the shallow smirk. 

Dogma finishes it, and removes his hands, giving him more space. Tup turns around, his eyes are wet, the colour coming back to his lips from where he as held back sobs with a bite of his mouth. The only sound from anyone else around is light snores, the barracks feel empty. Not for the first time. 

‘There’ Dogma says, a quick nod, and Tup blinks.

‘Yeah. Uh – yeah.’ Tup responds, and the tightness is back, his hands coming to clasp together, his hackles are rising once again, eyes darting away. 

Dogma panics – well, no, that isn’t quite right, but he doesn’t know what to do, and since Kamino, he and Tup have had their issues. So, he squints, purposefully looking at a strand of hair loose from the right-side braid, slipping towards Tup’s face. 

‘Turn around, I’ll do it again’ he snipes, not unkindly, and Tup’s eyes go wide and grateful, and he moves around so Dogma can take the pin out. Tup’s hair tumbles down, a tiny kink in it, and he cards his fingers through it softly, twirling it around his index and Tup breathes in these shaky gulps of air. 

He re-braids the right, and unpins the left, to correct the level and evenness, a slowly plaits along. He repeats this process once, twice, three times more until Tup’s breathing has stopped wobbling, until there is no tremor in his jaw, until his shoulders drop permanently. 

Tup doesn’t move immediately when Dogma leaves his hair alone for what he thinks is the last time. Instead Tup offers a smile, private smile, one Dogma hasn’t seen since they were cadets. Dogma gets up climbs over to his own bunk, picking up his pad again. He watches over it, as Tup lies back down on his side, his face contented and calm, when his eyes drift close again. 

Dogma taps on the bookmarked page and begins to read once again. He gets to sleep a while later, and he dreams of screams, blaster fire and canon explosions. But it’s fine. It’s all fine. He doesn’t need help. He can sleep through it. He will.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like it, drop a kudos.


End file.
